Where Majorca looks like how it oughta

Its not a myth  there are unspoilt bits of the Balearics. Richard Girling reveals the truth beyond the tat

It is said of almost every overtouristed Mediterranean island that it has a hidden side, of empty coves and unspoilt mountain villages where shepherds and fishermen receive their visitors with vast meals of lavish simplicity — fish lifted dripping from the sea, fruit fresh from the branch, cool wine, warm bread, olive oil as thick as yogurt. It’s a myth as pervasive and phoney as that of Merrie England, but one that in some parts is more easily surrendered to than in others.

Northern Majorca is such a place — conscious of its appeal, and not shy of cashing in, yet proud of its history and protective of its landscape. The aesthetes who fell in love with it in the 19th and early 20th centuries would recognise and love it still.

Along the coast, the views bludgeon you to a standstill: the towns and villages balanced on their shelves of rock, where